A/N:The truth is out...or well most of the truth.
Chapter Eight
Silence reigned following Lestrade's heartbroken statement and John could do nothing but stare at the DI blankly. Suddenly it seemed like everything had slipped into place. Suddenly, Sherlock's behavior made more sense. The stoicism, the refusal to take cases that even remotely involved sexual abuse, all of it.
They raped Sherlock.
They raped Sherlock.
...and it was all his fault.
It was his fault Sherlock had been out so late alone. His fault the detective had been so distracted.
It was all his fault.
His blue eyes moved to the silent detective, who had yet to confirm or deny Lestrade's statement, and tears welled in his eyes.
"It's not true, Sherlock. Please tell me it isn't true." He begged but Sherlock looked away, silver-and-sky eyes burning with rage and shame in equal measures.
Seeing he wouldn't get a response, the doctor turned his pleading gaze to Lord DeLaRose and his wife both of whom gaze him a sympathetic look.
"My husband," Lady DeLaRose began, sending Sherlock a worried glance, which went ignored by the slender man. "My husband found him shortly after his attackers fled and I treated his wounds. If he'd been left there he would've bled to death, so I kept him over night to ensure he would be okay. We've been counseling him and he is doing better...but his rage toward those insects grows with each passing day."
Lestrade swallowed thickly.
"Fuck, Sherlock. I'm so sorry." He whispered hoarsely and his friend looked up at him, his face once more a blank mask. Only his mercurial eyes, bright and blazing, gave away just what he was feeling.
"Don't be ridiculous. You didn't know...I didn't want any of you to know."
Matt placed a gentle hand on his back.
"You need to rest, little brother. I'll call Jared and Alec and let them know you're staying with us tonight."
Sherlock sent him an affronted look. "I am not a child! I do not need to be coddled like one." He snapped and the red-head sighed sending his father a pleading look.
The Lord sighed as well, pulling his wife into his arms.
"Lockie," He started, drawing his youngest childe's attention. "We've all had a very long day and you especially have had a very trying evening. Due to that we will be together as a family tonight."
Mycroft scowled."He is not your family."
Lizzie snorted. "You have no say in the matter, . Lockie is as much ours as he is yours."
"Highly doubtful, Lady DeLaRose, considering I knew nothing of your acquaintance with my brother until this evening."
The woman smirked. "Then perhaps your network isn't as knowledgeable as you think it is. If it were you'd know that Moriarty bugged this room before we arrived and is listening to our every word. Isn't that right, Jim."
Sherlock's phone beeped and the detective smirked when he read the text there.
'Correct.'-JM
"He said 'correct', mother." He rumbled softly and Mycroft stared at him surprised.
Sherlock hadn't even called their own mother her proper title, preferring to call her by her given name once he was old enough to talk and yet here he was calling this woman 'mother'. Why?
"Mother?" He whispered and Sherlock looked at him.
" They are my family." He replied.
"And me? Mummy?"
His brother hesitated then nodded.
"You are also my family."
John stared at the two brothers, then sighed wearily, his mind still whirling with the revelations of the evening.
"How about we all go home and rest tonight, then reconvene tomorrow."
Everyone nodded, not knowing that when morning hit, even more revelations would come to light.
***SHERIARTY***
Leonard James, 40.
Michael Sanders, 41.
Jason Garrett, 45.
Timothy Mathers, 40.
Finding the CCTV footage of the six men running away from an alley near baker street only hours after Sherlock went missing was ridiculously easy now that he knew who to look for. He'd searched for all the footage pertaining to the two men that had been killed by the DeLaRose couple dated within the nineteen hours that Sherlock had been missing and had found a video of them running away from an alley only a few blocks from baker street with four other men. Quickly running a facial recognition check on them gave him the identities of his newest pray and he smiled darkly.
"Sebastian."
His right-hand man appeared beside him silently, head cocked to the side in an unspoken query.
"Find these four men and bring them to me alive."
The assassin raised an eyebrow, silently pitying the poor bastards that had caught his master's attention.
"Another game for the detective?"
Jim shook his head, smile widening into an expression with entirely too many teeth.
" Oh no. No this is a present."
Sebastian shook his head but took the papers the consulting criminal handed him.
A present, huh.
He smirked.
Things were about to get interesting, especially if he was reading the savage rage and possessiveness in the other man's gaze correctly.
Sherlock Holmes wouldn't know what hit him.
TBC...
A/N: So, I've always imagined that if Sherlock and John could have a close relationship then Moriarty and Moran could be their reflection, sorta. Kinda like Good BFFs vs Bad BFFs.